Post by PadmeAmidala on Jun 19, 2004 10:52:44 GMT -5
Here's an incomplete piece that I started a while ago. I don't know if/when I'll ever finish it. And it's not really a Fanfic. Use your imaginations and if you don't like it, bite me! ;D
Prologue
Shawna looked up at the figures above her. Their shadows swung back and forth, covering her small body each time they swung left. The fire consuming the candle in her hand lit the cold wooden room. Candlewax covered her frigid fingers. Soon the tightly gripped candle snapped in half. Shawna tried to keep the fire burning. "Don't let the fire go out before we come and get you," her brother, Thor, had told her earlier, "Stay in here. You'll be safe." Thor and Marc then ran off into the woods, searching for help. That was over six hours ago. Shawna had fallen asleep after they went away, and when she woke up, the fire was out. Panicking, she tried to feel her pockets for a match to relight the candle. When the fire was made, two figures loomed above her head. They were bodies—dead, and hung by the neck—Thor’s and Marc’s.
Chapter 1
On a dark, stormy night, a child was born. It was said that lightning struck the house in which the child came into the world, and the roof caught on fire. The wooden roof started collapsing moments after the child was delivered, and a thick, rotting piece of wood, the size of a grown man's arm came down and crushed the mother’s throat, and blood splattered on clothes, in mouths, and in eyes. When the storm settled, the father carried the mother’s body. The corpse's head hung loosely with each step. The father was never able to bury the mother's body, for out of nowhere, in the middle of the rainy night, lightning struck him. The two dead bodies of Shawna's parents were found the next morning, when the sky was clear of the storm of the previous night--the storm the local people had never before seen.
Chapter 2
A strange man came to the village where a fierce storm once struck—the village that people fear saying its name. People do not talk about it if they do not have to. Even when they do, they whisper its name. In this town, it was said that the demon child was born, but no one knew where the demon child was now. Stories have been told over twenty years, and the story changed a bit each time it was told. The man could see the faces of workingmen and women, all miserable--and he wasn't surprised.
The man walked up to a door. It was a door of an old hut. It looked as if it could have once been a house. A part of this hut was burned down, he could tell, and they destroyed that part, pretending it had never existed. Spiders were wrapping their preys at every corner. He thought he might have even seen 30 spiders burst out of a small egg. Termites dwelled in what ever hole they found, and the wood, no, the whole hut, smelled of rot. But for whatever reason this hut looked this bad, he had come here to do a job, and he was no building inspector.
He knocked on the old door, and several termites fell out onto the floor and scurried away. A woman answered the door. The hood of a brown cloak covered her head. Beneath the cloak was black material, but the man could not tell what material it was, and he could care less. The woman did not raise her eyes to meet the strange man's.
"I am here for Sawanee," said the man.
"You’re looking at her," replied the woman, "What is it?"
"It’s time," the man said sternly.
"For what? Who the hell are you?" Sawanee said, with no change of tone in her voice.
"We don't have time for questions. You must come with me now! Don’t try to fight. We can do it the easy way, or you can regret your refusal later," the man ordered monotonously.
"What about my things?"
"You don't have anything." The man was right. There was nothing in the hut. "Now, come along quickly."
Sawanee was not afraid. She somehow knew that this day would come—that she would be taken away, rescued, from that termite-filled hut; that someone would have answers...
Prologue
Shawna looked up at the figures above her. Their shadows swung back and forth, covering her small body each time they swung left. The fire consuming the candle in her hand lit the cold wooden room. Candlewax covered her frigid fingers. Soon the tightly gripped candle snapped in half. Shawna tried to keep the fire burning. "Don't let the fire go out before we come and get you," her brother, Thor, had told her earlier, "Stay in here. You'll be safe." Thor and Marc then ran off into the woods, searching for help. That was over six hours ago. Shawna had fallen asleep after they went away, and when she woke up, the fire was out. Panicking, she tried to feel her pockets for a match to relight the candle. When the fire was made, two figures loomed above her head. They were bodies—dead, and hung by the neck—Thor’s and Marc’s.
Chapter 1
On a dark, stormy night, a child was born. It was said that lightning struck the house in which the child came into the world, and the roof caught on fire. The wooden roof started collapsing moments after the child was delivered, and a thick, rotting piece of wood, the size of a grown man's arm came down and crushed the mother’s throat, and blood splattered on clothes, in mouths, and in eyes. When the storm settled, the father carried the mother’s body. The corpse's head hung loosely with each step. The father was never able to bury the mother's body, for out of nowhere, in the middle of the rainy night, lightning struck him. The two dead bodies of Shawna's parents were found the next morning, when the sky was clear of the storm of the previous night--the storm the local people had never before seen.
Chapter 2
A strange man came to the village where a fierce storm once struck—the village that people fear saying its name. People do not talk about it if they do not have to. Even when they do, they whisper its name. In this town, it was said that the demon child was born, but no one knew where the demon child was now. Stories have been told over twenty years, and the story changed a bit each time it was told. The man could see the faces of workingmen and women, all miserable--and he wasn't surprised.
The man walked up to a door. It was a door of an old hut. It looked as if it could have once been a house. A part of this hut was burned down, he could tell, and they destroyed that part, pretending it had never existed. Spiders were wrapping their preys at every corner. He thought he might have even seen 30 spiders burst out of a small egg. Termites dwelled in what ever hole they found, and the wood, no, the whole hut, smelled of rot. But for whatever reason this hut looked this bad, he had come here to do a job, and he was no building inspector.
He knocked on the old door, and several termites fell out onto the floor and scurried away. A woman answered the door. The hood of a brown cloak covered her head. Beneath the cloak was black material, but the man could not tell what material it was, and he could care less. The woman did not raise her eyes to meet the strange man's.
"I am here for Sawanee," said the man.
"You’re looking at her," replied the woman, "What is it?"
"It’s time," the man said sternly.
"For what? Who the hell are you?" Sawanee said, with no change of tone in her voice.
"We don't have time for questions. You must come with me now! Don’t try to fight. We can do it the easy way, or you can regret your refusal later," the man ordered monotonously.
"What about my things?"
"You don't have anything." The man was right. There was nothing in the hut. "Now, come along quickly."
Sawanee was not afraid. She somehow knew that this day would come—that she would be taken away, rescued, from that termite-filled hut; that someone would have answers...
